


The Fallen Pieces

by LonelyGodsMuse



Series: The Game Is On [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alpha Derek Hale, Alternate Hale Fire, Always Female Stiles Stilinski, Angels and Gods, BAMF Stiles, Emissary Stiles Stilinski, Female Stiles Stilinski, Gen, Hale-McCall Pack mentioned, Hero's Journey, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Mentioned Scott McCall, Multiple Deaths, No time for romance, Original Character Death(s), Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Question of fate, Stiles doesn't have time for your bullshit, Strong willed Laura Hale, Time Travel Fix-It, Violent Death, Warning: Gerard Argent, Warning: Kate Argent, framed narrative
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-29
Updated: 2016-07-11
Packaged: 2018-07-10 22:20:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 2
Words: 9,076
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7010680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LonelyGodsMuse/pseuds/LonelyGodsMuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Standing at the grave of the last fallen member of the Hale Pack, Stiles is approached by a mysterious messenger who tells her that she can save her entire pack--including Derek's family.  With nothing to lose and everything to gain, Stiles accepts the offer and is transported into the past days before the Hale House Fire takes place.  Stiles is determined to save her pack no matter the consequences.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hello all! This was written for a creative Mythology final and I based it off of my other fanfiction Another Path: Sacrifices and Ghosts. You do not have to read Another Path to understand this story. This story does parallel many aspects of Another Path but neither the endings nor many of the events within the story will be the same. I hope you enjoy this story. Please leave comments so I can continue to grow as a writer and also if the ending confuses you. Like I said, I had to create my own mythology and if you are interested, I would love to tell you about it. Thank you for your time and happy reading!

The grounds towards the back of the abandoned cemetery were silent and still. Green vines and ivy covered the ground, shrouding the markers of the long since dead and the forgotten footpaths between one vast ocean of marble to another. The only exception was the freshly turned over soil which shone like a beacon over the final resting place of Derek Hale.

Stiles stood over the grave as the rain poured down around her, drenching her instantly but she took no notice of it as she was too intent on staring down at the place where her friend was buried under six feet of rich soil. Stiles would like to say that everyone had already come and gone, giving their condolences and offering sympathies but that would be a lie. There would be no one but Stiles who would mourn the passing of Derek Hale. It was not because he was disliked or some other inane reason. No one else would mourn because his family lay beside him--a marble slab dedicated to the fallen Hale family. A single, large slab of cold stone to commemorate the murder of an entire family spanning the space of one grave because the fire that killed them all left very little behind to bury. There were no living family members to mourn the passing of Derek Hale and all of his friends--all of Stiles’ friends--were buried under other pillars of stone in other grass and ivy covered cemeteries in other seas of stone and marble.

“I’m sorry for your loss.”

Stiles startled and turned to face the person standing to her right. It was a woman who was the same height as Stiles. She was tall and thin, willowy even. She had long plaited hair that ran down her back over her black overcoat that was buttoned all the way up to her throat. Stiles noticed belatedly that the rain had stopped falling on her and she looked up to see that though the water had stopped raining down on her and the person beside her, the rain was still descending upon the graves around them.

Stiles took in her surroundings but eventually turned towards the woman beside her and huffed tiredly, “What are you? Obviously not a werewolf like Derek.”

“No.” She shook her head, “I am not a werewolf. My name is Malak and I was sent to you with a message.”

Stiles stared blankly at the woman--Malak, waiting for her to continue. Stiles was too exhausted, too wearied to even crack a sarcastic joke or vocally prompt her into revealing her message so that she could leave Stiles to her grief.

“You can save him. You can save all of them. You can even save the lives of people you have never met. You can be a hero.”

“I’m not a hero.” Stiles interrupts. “Was that your message? That I could be a hero and save Derek and my pack and complete strangers? Is that all you came to say?”

“Not quite. This task is something only you can complete and I know you will seize the opportunity. You claim not to be a hero but you are. It is in your nature. You will take up the call and you will save every person you can even at the expense of your own life.”

Stiles remained silent. The wind shifted pressing Stiles’ soaked clothes into her skin eliciting a shiver. Stiles finally became aware that she was standing in an empty graveyard with a stranger in soaked clothing in the middle of a torrential downpour. She looked once more at the woman standing beside her and saw her staring at Stiles’ face intensely. Stiles looked into her eyes which were glowing an odd silver color and then Stiles turned away and began to walk away from both the stranger and her buried friend.

“If you do not accept this call, other events will unfold which will force your hand.” Malak’s voice boomed across the space between the two, even piercing through the loud noise of the rainfall that assailed Stiles once she stepped away from Malak. Stiles stopped.

“Don’t you dare threaten me.”

“It is not a threat. It is simply a warning.”

Stiles turned to face Malak once more. “‘Warning’ is just another pleasant word for a threat.”

“This is no threat, Stiles. You are meant to undertake this journey. Time has been fractured. Events that occurred in the past such as the Hale Fire should never have happened. Someone needs to reset the balance. It is your duty to be this person.”

“My duty was to my pack--my family and they are all gone. Dead and buried. You having nothing to hang over my head. My last duty was to bury Derek as per the traditions of his family. I am done.”

“Stiles if you do not reconsider, even more tragic events will befall you.”

“Who sent you?” Stiles ignored Malak’s last statement and instead took a threatening step towards her. Stiles was done with the games and veiled threats. She was drained. All she wanted was to leave the cold slab of stone and go home where she could curl into a ball and grieve. No one needed her to be strong anymore.

“It does not matter who sent me. What matters is you could save all of the Hales. You could save Derek and the lives of every one of your pack members. You could change their lives--make them better than as they knew them here.”

Stiles continued to step towards Malak until they were standing toe to toe. “Let’s say I believe you. What’s the catch? What do you or whoever sent you get out of this? And how exactly would I save people who died over a decade ago?”

Malak appeared to search Stiles’ face looking for something and she eventually nods her head down once, decisively. “We only get back what we lost--balance. Derek will get his family and every one you love will live.”

“You didn’t mention the catch or how exactly I’m supposed to save all of them.”

“There is no catch. We will send you back in time to before the Hale Fire happened. You must save the Hales by any means necessary. The changes you make will be reabsorbed into the new timeline.”

Stiles ponders the proposition, not even phased at the mention of time travel. Weirder things have happened. Stiles could save the Hales. She could spare Derek the pain of losing his entire family. She could save Isaac, Scott, Allison, Lydia-- she could save everyone. She could undo all of the bad luck and the horrible memories that befell every single one of them--erase them as if they never happened. Stiles was no hero but she could do this one task. “And what happens to me once I’m done saving the Hales?”

Malak gave a sad smile in response--the first real expression that Stiles had seen on her face since she had arrived. “That, I do not know.”

Stiles nodded accepting the answer. Malak was right; Stiles could never turn her back on her family. She would and has risked everything, even her own life, to save and protect them. Stiles gazed down at the grey slab that boasted Derek’s name, his living timeline, and the small collection of words that attempted to summarize the impact of Derek’s life on others. She saw this plain, inadequate marker and felt enraged, dissatisfied, disquieted and with these new feelings bubbling up to the surface, Stiles made her decision. She once more faced Malak and nodded once. Stiles’ world suddenly went dark.

* * *

 

Stiles woke to find herself in the middle of the forest with her back leaning up against a tree. It was night and a storm was raging outside. The rain pelted Stiles as she laid prostrate trying to get her bearings. Now Stiles was definitely freezing as the wind whistled through the trees into the clearing Stiles was in. _Thanks a lot Malak_. Taking stock of her body, Stiles found no injuries and when she looked closer at her surroundings, she noticed that she knew exactly where she was. She was in the woods by Derek’s childhood home. Stiles stood, wrapped her arms around her body in a feeble attempt to retain whatever warmth she could muster and began the trek towards shelter.

The walk took about half an hour by Stiles’ estimation as she came into the clearing that the Hale House was located in. The wind and rain had made it nearly impossible for Stiles to see where she was going in the dark and she had tripped over many rocks and stray branches that sent her careening into trees and on one memorable occasion, sent her flailing to her knees.

Stepping onto the front porch, Stiles knocked on the door perfectly aware that everyone inside had been able to hear her coming once she entered the clearing despite the loud, clashing storm that was raging. She only had to wait a short time until the door was opened by a tall tan woman with long, wavy black hair. She was dressed comfortably in jeans and a large green sweater. Despite her welcoming and curious smile, I could see that she was coiled for a fight. Stiles could not fault the woman fore she was a stranger standing drenched on her porch in the middle of the night during a rainstorm.

Stiles bowed her head in a show of both deference and submission, “Alpha Hale.”

Looking up, Stiles could see Talia struggle with how to respond but she did tip her head slightly in acknowledgement of Stiles’ greeting.

“I am not your enemy, Alpha Hale. My name is Stiles Stilinski and I am the Emissary for the Hale Pack in my timeline. You are in terrible danger.”

Stiles could hear a chorus of growls echo from behind where Talia was standing with her back straight and her expression unreadable. Despite her apparent misgivings, Talia could undoubtedly hear the truth in Stiles’ words so she stepped to the side allowing Stiles entrance into her home. Stepping around Talia, Stiles looked around at the Hale House in all of its glory.

The house was clearly lived in and well cared for. Dark wood flooring unfolded throughout the open floor plan with richly colored rugs tossed here and there to add a sense of warmth. The walls were a light green color and they were covered with framed photographs and art pieces. The halls of the house echoed with life, vitality, family. Stiles had never seen the Hale House look like a home, let alone feel like one.

Behind her, Talia cleared her throat prompting Stiles to turn to face her. Talia had her arm extended to the left where there was an opening to the living room. Talia waited for Stiles to make the first move before following her into the room with her family. Stiles looked at the family seated before her and found herself at a loss for words. Stiles had only met two of the Hale family and found the corpse of another but now before her very eyes, they were all sitting in their home alive and unmarred by the tragic events about to unfold.

Talia took her seat beside her husband Robert on the loveseat where she had the perfect vantage point of her entire pack with the addition of Stiles and the distant doorway. Taking one more moment to bask in how whole the Hale family was, Stiles looked at each person cataloging them and comparing them either with the person that she knew from her time or with the extensive research she did about the Hale family along with the small stories that Derek had willingly shared.

Peter was sitting in an armchair in front of the window seat where he had a similar vantage point to Talia’s but his steel blue eyes were focused solely on Stiles, dissecting her where she stood but she could also see his rising curiosity. Robert was sitting beside Talia with his arm around her shoulders either to comfort or hold her back from attacking. He had medium length brown hair that curled around his face. He was also dressed comfortably in jeans and a blue v-neck t-shirt. On the couch between the three adults sat Laura, Derek, and their younger sister Cora. All three of them were almost unrecognizable. Not only were Derek and Cora ten years younger than the last time she had seen them and also alive, but they were both softer. That was the only way she could describe them. They were sitting comfortably yet ready for action at a moment's notice. They looked curious rather than suspicious, open minded rather than blindly angry. _They looked so young_.

Stiles redirected her attention to Talia to see her already looking at her. Talia was sniffing the air undoubtedly searching for and deciphering the chemo-signals that Stiles was releasing into the air. Stiles could only imagine what she was scenting: grief, anger, desperation, hope. Possibly madness.

Without wasting another second, Stiles opened her mouth, “Alpha Hale. Thank you for opening your home to me. Especially without a formal envoy to announce my arrival. As I said outside, I am the Emissary for the Hale Pack and I have no intent to harm you or anyone under your protection.”

“Let’s say we believe you,” drawled Peter from his chair beside the window, “which I don’t despite hearing the truth in your heartbeat, why have you come?”

“Peter, in my timeline you wouldn’t know the truth if it threw a molotov cocktail in your face.” Peter looked affronted and temporarily out of sorts when Stiles revealed she had known his name but quickly shifted his face into a smirking mask with a ‘go on’ gesture as he leaned back in his chair.

“I believe that you intend us no harm but my trust will only extend so far. You claim to be the Emissary of the Hale Pack and you claim to be from another timeline. I already have an emissary and even if I did not, I don’t believe that I would choose one so young.”

Stiles nods in acceptance, “You are correct in both estimations. You do have an emissary. The veterinarian Alan Deaton. Also, while I am the emissary for the Hale Pack, I am not your emissary. In my timeline, I am the emissary to Alpha Derek Hale.”

Stiles watched the family recoil as if they were slapped. Laura, as the next in line for the mantle of alpha jerked into a standing position and began to march purposefully, angrily in Stiles’ direction until they were toe to toe, nose to nose where she proceeded to place a clawed finger at the base of Stiles’ throat in a silent threat with her eyes flashing a furious beta gold.

“What,” she hissed out between her fangs, “did you just say?” Her voice was quiet and deadly. A challenge. Too bad Stiles has never been afraid of challenges.

“I said,” Stiles repeated slowly for dramatic effect, “that I am the Hale Pack Emissary under Alpha Derek Hale.”

Laura went for Stiles’ throat but before even Talia could alpha command Laura to back down, Laura’s body was sailing across the room until she landed back on the couch between Cora and a perplexed Derek. Talia stood then and glared down at Laura until her eyes returned to their original green color. Then Talia turned back towards Stiles and Talia watched as Stiles’ eyes also faded from the liquid fire they had become back to her initial whiskey color and her right arm lowered back to her side.

“An explanation is definitely in order.” She glared at everyone and then returned to her seat after a final meaningful glance in Stiles’ direction. She pointed a long finger at the last open armchair that was in the room and watched as Stiles made her way to the chair and sat in it despite her soaked clothing.

“I don’t know how much time I have here so this story and whatever actions we take after it will be swift. My name is Stiles Stilinski. I was introduced into the supernatural world when I dragged my best friend Scott McCall out in the middle of the night to go find half of a dead body in the woods. My dad was the sheriff and I was nosy so I knew exactly where we had to go. Scott and I got separated and I got caught by my father. While I was being escorted home, Scott was attacked and bitten. I was the one that pieced together that he was now a werewolf. We returned to the woods to look for Scott’s inhaler the next day and we found it when Derek tossed it to Scott and told us to get off of the Hale property. I had remembered Derek Hale from when I had been snooping in my dad’s case files. Eventually, we did find the other half of the body, wrongfully accused Derek of murder, found out that the creature that bit Scott was an insane, rampaging Alpha that we had to put down, I discovered I had magical abilities, and we ultimately created a pack. This pack was an amalgamation of werewolves, a banshee, a werecoyote, a kitsune, a hunter, and an emissary. We came together as a pack and we continued to defend our home--our territory for close to five years before I was forced to watch every single one of them die. I was forced to bury my entire family. I am all that remains of the Hale Pack from my timeline. Just before I arrived here, I had just finished burying Derek. A woman approached me at his gravestone and offered me the chance to return to this moment and change the events that are coming to pass. Obviously, I accepted her offer and now here I am.”

Silence reigned after the load of information that Stiles had just effectively dropped into their laps. Stiles sat in silence both to let the Hales process everything she had revealed and to bask in the sense of peace that was beginning to overcome her. Stiles had not felt something so comforting in years and despite how calming the atmosphere was, it did little to assuage her grief.

“What,” came a halting response breaking the room from its silent state. Stiles looked at Talia to see her stunned expression. She had lost the residual anger from the outburst that had occurred previously between Laura and Stiles.

Seeing that Talia could not continue, Stiles waited a moment and then asked, “What’s the date today?”

“September 20th.” Came the automatic response.

Stiles nodded, wracking her mind for the details from the Hale House fire case and the details that Derek had ultimately revealed to her about how exactly his family had come to perish. Stiles determined that Kate Argent was already in the mix and had had her claws in Derek for about a month now making her next revelations all the more daunting. The Hale family was set to die in a terrible house fire in exactly two days. Kate’s plan was all set. Stiles felt even more so now after coming to her conclusion, that she was sitting in a room full of ghosts.

The family as a whole seemed to be coming around which suited Stiles perfectly because there was even more to her tale. “When you’re all ready again, I’ll continue.”

Receiving blank stares that shifted eventually to reluctant nods, Stiles pressed on. “I have no easy way of telling you this so I’ll do what I do best--be blunt. I wish I could spare your feelings and ease you into this but I have neither the time nor the real inclination to do so, so here goes: I am from about fifteen years in your linear future. I was sent back after the massacre of my pack to undo the fire that will happen here in two days. In two days time, you will all be dead with the exceptions of Derek, Laura, Peter, and Cora.” Stiles pauses briefly, looks at Derek’s horrified expression until she catches his eyes and says, “Derek, I hope you can forgive me for what I’m about to do. If not however, I’m still sorry.” Stiles turned her eyes away to fully encompass the entirety of the pack once more. “There is a new substitute teacher at Beacon Hills High. She teaches Derek’s math class. Her real name is Kate Argent and she came to Beacon Hills with the single goal of destroying the Hale Pack. She decided to do this by posing as a substitute teacher, seducing Derek thus turning him into a victim of statutory rape because she is 25 to Derek’s 16, and on the night of the full moon, she barricaded the escape doors in your basement, surrounded the house with mountain ash and started a fire. She watched as every single one of you died while trapped inside your own burning home. Kate had paid off certain individuals, the fire was ruled as an accident, and Kate left content in her decimation of the Hale Pack. Cora was presumed dead, Peter was badly burned thus Derek and Laura left him in a long term medical facility and escaped to New York. Ten years after the fire, Derek returned when he hadn’t heard anything from Laura to find half her body. He buried her and found both Scott and myself. He helped us discover that Peter had actually been healed from his burns but that his mind was warped by how slowly he had healed. During one of his extremes, he attacked and murdered Laura, slicing her in half and taking the alpha power for himself. He bit Scott shortly after. In quick succession, we three formed a ragtag pack which culminated in us lighting Peter on fire a la Molotov cocktail, Derek putting Peter out of his misery and becoming alpha of the Hale Pack.”

Stiles took a deep breath to settle herself and looked at the people gathered before her solemnly. “I have come back to save my pack. And I will do so by any means necessary.”

* * *

 

Stiles stood on the wrap around porch outside admiring how the rain slammed against the dirt path to the Hale House that Stiles had meandered up a few short minutes ago. The water droplets were still coming down with varying degrees of speed hitting anything in their path. Stiles had stood up and walked out of the Hale living room after she had effectively ‘dropped the mic’. The entire family had barely moved after Stiles had finished talking. The only movement that the family had given was a small flinch when Stiles had stood and an almost imperceptible nod when she had mentioned stepping outside onto the porch.

Stiles could understand how her revelations about their upcoming murders and the events to come in the future would be shocking and hard to handle and she even came to realize that the way she had revealed these secrets was harsh but Stiles knew that time was against them all.

The storm was raging louder than ever with the wind thrashing the branches of the trees into one another and the thunder cracking loudly above her head. Lightning flashed across the landscape lighting up the trees and etching out a bright path that stayed illuminated for a short time after the vibrant vision of light had faded into the maelstrom of darkness. The storm was wild and reckless and harsh--something Stiles couldn’t help but draw a parallel to. Her old self would have cracked a joke or referenced Hagrid’s line of “a storm’s coming and we best be ready when she does”. Or maybe even a Supernatural line about storms and bad things to come and being stuck in the middle of an oncoming war but Stiles wasn’t the same person that she was when she would have made those references.

Stiles could sense the door behind her open and someone step outside and up to her left. Without turning, Stiles could sense that it was Talia standing beside her facing the downpour. Stiles remained silent allowing Talia to make the first move.

Talia huffed out a deep breath, “I’m not sure what to say.”

“That’s understandable.” Stiles allowed.

“You’re saying that in your timeline my entire family is dead? That in two days time, a majority of my family that you just sat in front of are going to be lying in a morgue lifeless?”

“That’s exactly what I’m saying. Your deaths put into motion the events of my past.”

Talia turned to face Stiles instead of the storm which prompted Stiles to rotate until the two were looking into one another’s faces intently. Talia’s face was set in a determined mask with her eyes hard and glinting as lightning flashed illuminating her sharp features. “It seems we both have the same goal--to protect our packs.” Talia paused, “Truce?”

“Truce.” Stiles put out her right hand which Talia shook firmly before their hands parted and fell to their sides.  Talia turned her back to the storm and Stiles to walk back into her home, “You are welcome to stay in our home with us. We will not harm you. And despite the events about to unfold, I am thankful that you have arrived and that you intend to save my family.”

“Talia wait,” Stiles made an aborted move to address her next words to Talia directly but found herself fixed in place staring into the space where Talia had once been, “I am truly sorry.”

Stiles let her words drop off and disappear into the storm hoping that Talia could hear the words left unspoken, _I’m sorry for your loss. I’m sorry you were all murdered. I’m sorry for the events that happened. I’m sorry I dumped all of this information on you so harshly. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry_.

Talia had paused in her movements towards the front door but eventually continued forward and through with her parting words whispered just as softly as Stiles’ had been, “I’m sorry too”.

* * *

 

Stiles looked around the artfully decorated guest room as she settled on the queen sized bed absolutely covered in overstuffed pillows in various shades of calming, earth-tone blues and greens which complimented the dark blue tone of the walls, in her borrowed dry clothes. The shades were calming both in line with color psychology and with how they made Stiles’ always moving mind slow just enough that her thoughts were no longer a chaotic jumble but a more manageable buzzing along the back of her mind.

Pushing herself backwards along the duvet, Stiles made her way to the center of the bed with her head supported on the mountain of pillows which she slowly removed until she was comfortably resting with two cushioning and supporting her head and neck. Stiles laid completely still--a feat of itself for her, with her hands resting on her stomach as she gazed up at the sculpted, white ceiling. It was smooth and the shadows of the trees that were outside kept appearing in their elongated, twisted forms whenever the lightning crashed from outside her window. Some of the branches appeared to stretch from one side of the room until they were just barely brushing the crown molding alongside the other. Stiles couldn’t help but be enthralled at the play of light and shadow, the push and pull.

While gazing upwards, Stiles allowed herself to delve into her thoughts. Just this morning she was fifteen years in the future, burying the last member of her pack and now here she was fifteen years in the past surrounded by ghosts while she was burdened with the fool’s hope of saving every single one of them. Shaking her head at both her own naivety and her foolishly hopeful heart, Stiles turned onto her right side to to watch the clash of the storm.

* * *

 

The dining room was alive and warm when Stiles stepped into it. There were no traces of the dilapidated house that sagged in the middle and was burnt to a cinder. Instead the wood floors were warm and smooth beneath Stiles’ bare feet and the walls were a light forest green adorned with photographs of the family. The table was a long slab of wood with eight chairs around it and it was covered in breakfast fixings that called to Stiles as her stomach rumbled loudly.

The family was seated according to their rank in the pack with Talia heading up the table with Robert on her left, Uncle Peter on her right, Laura beside Peter, Derek across from her, Cora beside Laura with the chair directly across from her left empty while the final chair at the other end of the table was set for Stiles.

Taking her seat, Stiles looked at the others and saw that their expressions were grim, their faces pale and drawn. They appeared tired yet bounding with energy if the light thumping from someone's leg bouncing up and down could be believed. They were coiled for a fight, trapped in the cyclical, all consuming mode of fight or flight. No one was talking, no one was making movements beyond the mechanical. They were wound so tightly that any movement or any sound out of the ordinary would make them snap. So, Stiles being Stiles, lifted her plate until it was hovering to her right side over the wooden floor and let it go. The glass smashed against the floor sending slivers and chunks skittering in every direction while simultaneously rousing the family from their stupor. They each jumped up with their teeth and fangs barred, a deep growl emanating from the depths of their chests, their bodies standing but crouched set to spring up and attack at any provocation with their claws outstretched and sharp.

Once noticing that there was no imminent attack, they all shook out their features and sat down in their seats once more. “Now that that’s been dealt with, shall we prepare for tomorrow?” Stiles questioned looking around the room as she used her magic to reconstitute the broken class and bring it back into her grasp whole and unblemished. Without waiting for a response she began to fill her plate with scrambled eggs, crispy potatoes, and an extra helping of bacon.

Stiles dug into her plate heartily. She couldn’t remember the last time she had eaten. Not before Derek’s funeral and not at all the day before, there was too much running, too much fighting, too much grieving. Without looking up from her quickly emptying plate, Stiles heard other forks scraping against plates as everyone else began to eat.

“What do you have in mind, Stiles?” Talia intoned from her place at the head of the table.

“We can run.” A voice interjected. Robert.

Peter scoffed loudly, “You think we should run,” Peter sounded so disgusted with the word, so full of contempt that such a word had arisen from someone he knew.

“Well what the hell else are we supposed to do? Stay here? Act as if everything is fine? Like we’re not dead already?”

“We’re not dead already. Stop overreacting.” Peter drawled as he leant back in his chair to sip at his coffee.

Laura had gotten progressively more upset as the conversation had flowed around her until finally she jumped up and slammed her hand down onto the table. Silence reigned as she peered from one face to another. “I say,” came her quiet edict, “that we attack them first. We fight.”

Stiles couldn’t help but snort.  Every head swiveled to where Stiles was sitting. Stiles had noted that over the course of the previous conversation, Talia had been sitting straight back in her chair with a calculating gleam in her eye as she finally rested her attentions upon Stiles. “You want to fight? What do you know about the people attacking you? Do you know how? How many there will be? Or would you prefer to go in and attack blindly?” Stiles hurled her queries one after another attempting to get through to Laura.

“And what,” she rasped, “do you suggest? Running also? Staying here to play the victims like your pack did?”

“Laura!” Talia rebuked quickly.

Stiles raised her right hand towards Talia in an attempt to wave off her reprimands, “It’s alright Talia. Let her speak.”

Laura was upset that her barbs had failed to meet their mark but Stiles was not afraid of Laura nor of any reprisals or insults she deemed to throw at her. Stiles had faced down much more intimidating enemies that an irate Laura Hale.

Talia interrupted before the argument could escalate any further, “What do you suggest Stiles?"

“I suggest that you go on as though everything is normal. Do everything you were going to do. Appear as though nothing has changed. No one besides who is in this house knows I’m here so that means we have an advantage over Kate--”

Laura interrupted angrily, “And what about Kate, huh, dear brother,” she spat as she faced a young Derek who attempted to become one with his chair.  He was staring down out his long cold breakfast as though it was the most interesting thing he had ever seen.

Stiles stood up from her seat immediately which caused everyone at the table to tense but Laura just settled more into a stance that divulged her cockiness, her self-assuredness that she would win whatever confrontation that would occur. “You do not have the room to fling accusations. What are you but a young, overconfident, arrogant beta who sees herself so far above anyone else that she misses the most obvious fluctuations? A beta so one track minded that rather than react to the murder of her entire family, she obsesses over the fact that her younger brother rose to the title of alpha? You are nothing but a child.” Over the course of Stiles’ speech, her eyes had begun glowing a golden flame. The silverware and the plates on the table had begun to tremble, the very ground beneath their feet rumbling it's displeasure.

Laura would have leapt at Stiles once again if Stiles had not been prepared. She lifted her hand and pinned Laura to her chair with her magic. “You have no ground to stand upon. He may be young and naive but that is my alpha, my friend, to which you are speaking and you will show him some respect.” Stiles’ voice had risen from its restrained, threatening tone until her voice ricocheted off of the walls, amplified by her rising magic until the words resonated in every person’s ears, shook them down to their bones.

Broken from her stupor due to the power pressing down on her chest, Laura nodded shamefaced and with this admission, Stiles released her power over her. Stiles took a few deep breaths to calm herself so she could continue. Once her eyes finally returned to her original whiskey color, Stiles returned to her seated position. Derek looked even more pale beneath his tanned skin. He was dejected, betrayed, angry, and afraid. Stiles could pinpoint exactly why he was afraid--Derek was never meant to be an alpha. His family was never meant to be murdered, especially because of something he unknowingly did. Stiles could feel her heart go out to this young Derek but she knew that her Derek had suffered a far worse fate so she stamped out her remorse and moved on.

“As I was saying, everyone pretends that everything is normal. Kate believes that she has won already. Everything will go as she has planned for tomorrow but I will be here to break the mountain ash circle and disable the barricades she has set. I’ll take out the other hunters with her and when the time comes, I will rip out her heart.” Stiles’ proclamations are followed by a disquiet silence.

“You expect us to let this psychopath burn down our home just to satisfy her insanity?” Peter’s disgusted voice intoned.

“Would you rather your home or your family burn?” Stiles responded sharply, without pause.

No answer arose.

* * *

 

The night passed on quickly with the family moving as though they were shadows of their former selves. Movements were devoid of laughter and cheer. They were not the mechanical movements that Stiles had witnessed earlier but they were instead jerky imitations of life which made Stiles cringe. Eventually everyone had left to be alone in their own rooms, in their own spaces to gather their wits or just to escape the suffocating atmosphere that invaded the once lively home. Stiles found herself tossing and turning throughout the night heavy with the knowledge that the family surrounding her found themselves in the exact same predicament.

* * *

 

Stiles could not stand the waiting. The waiting ramped up her ADHD making her even more frenzied than usual. Years of preparing for fights and for waiting for the other shoe to drop had made Stiles more prepared for a fight, for a surprise attack. The years had made Stiles an excellent warrior, an excellent fighter, but they had also stripped her of her ability to fully relax in any environment. Stiles could not contain the buzzing under her skin, her magic pushing and prodding at the walls in her mind that she had put up to ensure no one would be harmed by a flare up of her magic. Her nerves were strung tight, causing her to pace up and down the hall in front of the door. She knew her pacing would only drive the werewolves further up the walls but she had no outlet. She couldn’t go outside to lash out with her magic because who knew if Kate had someone watching the house and she couldn’t spar with anyone inside the house because there was always the chance that someone would mistake any move she made for an attack. The Hale’s basement would not offer her a reprieve either because it was not up to the standards Stiles would need for it to be to contain her magic.

Stiles heard shuffling footsteps approach her and without thought she whirled towards the approaching individual only to take a step back when she comes face to face with Derek Hale. He had lost his downtrodden expression from yesterday and while still appearing hollowed out, he appeared determined as he set his mouth, “Meditation always works for me. Would you like to join me?”

Stiles knew she should say no because she could foresee the trainwreck that would undoubtedly follow if she were to spend any time with him but she could not deny that spending time with someone she had lost held strong appeal. Intuitively she knew that this Derek was not the same person as the one Stiles had known but the chance to be near him again in any form was like a siren’s song.

They settled in the living room sitting on the floor with their legs crossed facing one another. Despite wanting to be near Derek, Stiles found herself unable to fully look his younger self in the eye. Stiles used to hate silence, she always had to fill it up but now the silence that surrounds herself and Derek is welcome, it’s companionable.

Stiles still feels the buzzing, the irritating wisps of awareness along the back of her neck and in her head but they seem muffled at the same time. Still present but less obtrusive allowing her some form of respite. Allowing her to settle, perhaps for the first time in a long while that Stiles is able to relax to some degree despite the approaching attack.

“Thank you.” Came a soft voice directly from in front of her.

Stiles opened her eyes in shock. She had never heard Derek speak so softly and she never would have imagined him thanking her for what she had done to him. With no response ready, Stiles just stared directly into Derek’s shifting green eyes.

“You saved me...and my family,” Derek’s voice cracked, “you saved them from something I did.”

Stiles could never stand to see Derek so subservient, so stripped of who he was. “What Kate did to you. What she put the Derek I knew through, none of that was either of your faults. It was hers. There is nothing wrong with you. If I could, I would stand by you and tell you that every single day until you believed me.” Stiles promised as she leant towards Derek’s hunched in form.

“How…” Came his broken response which dropped into the silence surrounding them.

“You’re my alpha Derek. And my best friend. I would and have stood beside you since I met you. I would gladly do so again. To whatever end.”

Derek was saved from responding when Talia and Peter came into the room with Robert, Laura and Cora following quickly behind. “They’re here,” is all that Talia needs to say before Stiles and Derek are jumping up and gathering beside the family.

Stiles can sense eight people surrounding the Hale property along with the magic emanating off of the mountain ash encircling the house. “Everyone get downstairs into the basement.”

“You mean the basement we die in?” Interjects Laura.

“Yes. Because you are not going to die down there but the house is going to be set on fire soon so you need to be somewhere the flames won’t get to you.”

A fire breaks out from the direction of the kitchen as they hear a window shatter. Without waiting for a response, Talia begins to herd everyone towards the basement as smoke begins to spread through the other rooms of their home as other windows shatter and flames begin erupting everywhere. Derek is the only person who hasn’t made a move to leave Stiles’ side. Peter attempts to haul Derek with him but Derek remains steadfast despite Peter’s urgings.

“Go.” Stiles whispers soothingly. “Go, Derek.”

“Stiles-” The flames jumped higher sending a loud cracking noise echoing in the space between them. Unable to spare more time, Stiles did something she had sworn to never do to Derek-- she used her magic to shove him into Peter’s arms. Peter hauled Derek up and over his shoulder in a fireman’s carry and Stiles turned away from Derek’s repeated screams of her name.

It was time. This was why Stiles came back. This was what she was meant to change. Stiles closed her eyes taking in a deep breath. She tasted ash in the back of her throat and felt the heat of the flames against her flesh. She could hear the muffled, frightened screaming of the Hale Pack below her feet. Stiles’ eyes opened and the golden glow shone out sublimely, burning through everything in her path as she took large, measured steps towards the front door.

Pushing her hand out in front of her body sent the front door flinging off of it’s hinges and out beyond the ring of mountain ash into the clearing. Cries of surprise from the surrounding hunters echoed in her ears as she continued her path down the porch stairs. A push of air emanating from Stiles’ glowing form utterly destroyed the circle of ash and small explosions rippled from all around the home destroying the barricades that Kate’s men had placed to keep in the Hale family. Stiles could feel where every single hunter was and she knew she needed to get them away from the Hale family. She promised to deal with them and deal with them she will. Stiles lifted both her arms to her sides and she brought them together before her body in a clap. The clap resounded in the clearing like the boom of crashing thunder. All of the hunters that had been surrounding the property were now before her but they were of little consequence. They were not who Stiles was the most interested in--no, they were the pawns.

“Kate. Oh little Katie Argent.” Stiles’ mocking voice echoed throughout the clearing. She could sense the Hale family running from the property while Stiles played the distraction. “Come on out, Kate. You’ve already lost.” Stiles couldn’t contain her wolfish grin.

Finally, a blond, voluptuous figure stalked out of the surrounding trees with a shotgun resting on her shoulder. Stiles knew that Kate would be sauntering in unaffected if the situation had unfolded differently so seeing Kate so affected caused something like satisfaction to curl low in her gut. Kate attempted to play it off, “My, my, we have a new player. What are you? And who’s to say we’ve lost? You’ve clearly heard of the Argents.”

“I say you’ve lost. I have heard of the Argents. I’ve also heard of their code which you are breaking.” Stiles raised her hands once more towards the group. All of the hunters responded how she knew they would, raising their guns and firing at her. None of the bullets reached her instead they stood frozen before Stiles’ body. Stiles had always loved The Matrix, sue her. But with the flick of her wrist the bullets fell to the forest floor inert. Stiles rotated her wrist until she formed a fist which caused every single hunter barring Kate to clutch at their throats. As Stiles’ arm rose higher into the air, so to did the struggling men choking in their invisible nooses. Kate made a move as if to shoot Stiles once more but with a flick of her other wrist, Kate’s body is sent careening into a tree. Stiles continues to watch dispassionately with her glowing eyes as the men continue to struggle in her hold until eventually they stop moving. Waiting another moment, Stiles drops their unconscious forms to the ground and stalks over them until she is in front of Kate’s crumpled form.

Kate remains unresponsive but Stiles knew how she liked to lull her victims into a false sense of security so Stiles was determined to wait her out. She promised to kill Kate but she never promised it would be quick. A slow death is what she deserved but Stiles was also conscious of the fact that leaving Kate alive another moment would invite something to go wrong. Kate did not disappoint fore shortly after Stiles had settled before her, Kate had lunged towards Stiles. Tired with the move that Laura had already tried previously, Stiles simply flicked her wrist towards Kate slamming her into the tree behind her once more. Kate gritted out a sharp breath between her bared teeth as she glared balefully at Stiles.

Stiles only smirked wolfishly towards her. “Hello Kate.”

“Bitch!” Kate snarled as she thrashed against her invisible bonds.

Stiles only hummed in response watching in fascination as the woman who had haunted and tortured Derek for years struggled to free herself. Stiles’ eyes had to burn into Kate’s flesh as she continued to stare unblinkingly at the woman before her. Lifting her right arm to Kate’s chest, her fingertips resting above her heart, Stiles sought out Kate’s eyes. The blue green color was overtaken in a frenzy of desperation, her eyes were crazed as they peered back into Stiles’. They promised revenge and death, they held no fear for her fast approaching death.

“You lose.” Is the last thing Stiles says to the Argent before her magic is aiding Stiles’ hand in punching through Kate’s chest to wrap her hand around her heart where she unceremoniously rips it out. Kate’s eyes are wide and only now as her body jerks from Stiles removing her hand do her eyes reflect a tinge of fear. Stiles watches cold heartedly as Kate Argent’s body crumples lifeless at her feet. Victory sings in her blood as she briefly tosses Kate’s heart up and down in her hand before she stands above her still form and drops it beside her lifeless corpse.

Stiles turns away from the body to face the Hale house that is still alight in flames. Stiles can hear the fire department fast approaching, their sirens sharp, cutting through the night air. Stiles has no doubt that the Sheriff’s department is on its way as well, Stiles’ father along with them. Stiles knows that she cannot be seen by her father, the pain would be too much. In the other direction, Stiles can sense the Hale pack swiftly returning to their home.

Stiles turns in time to see Derek barrelling towards her. Stiles cannot make sense of why Derek’s face shifts from relieved to falling into a mask of horror. She cannot make sense of the words that he’s shouting at her as a hot pain rips through her from behind. In shock, Stiles looks down to see that her hand had already come up to where the pain was originating from. She sees blood pouring from in between her fingers from where they lay on her chest. Stiles looked up sluggishly in confusion to see Derek’s frantic expression and the forms of the remaining Hale pack rushing towards her with varying degrees of alarm upon their features. Turning away from them, Stiles faced where the shot had come from to see Kate’s father Gerard standing beside the body of his fallen daughter with a gun drawn and pointed at Stiles. She sees his face, a mask of anger and triumph coalescing into a sneer as he shifts the gun from Stiles’ form to one of the werewolves and with a final remnant of strength, Stiles lifts her hand towards him, clenching her fist and while she couldn’t hear Gerard’s neck snap, she saw his body topple as her own body finally began to sink to the forest floor.

The impact never came. Instead, Stiles was grabbed from behind and bundled into someone’s arms. _Derek’s_. Stiles’ mind supplied. Derek was on the ground beneath Stiles, holding her tightly as his right hand attempted to staunch the blood flow from her bullet wound. Stiles could sense that the Hale Pack was hanging on the periphery of her sight, showing that they were there but also giving her space.

Stiles knew she was dying, she could feel the cold seeping in, her body shutting down. Stiles knew she should be afraid but she couldn’t feel anything but relief. She would finally see her pack again. Her dad. Her mom. She could finally be with her family. Stiles’ hearing slowly started to trickle in and she finally heard what Derek was shouting, “Mom, please we can save her! Give her the bite! Stiles hold on, okay. We’re right here. Please.”

Stiles looked up at Derek to see him rocking her back and forth, crying and shaking as he pleaded for Talia to help her.  Stiles couldn’t help but smile softly. She laid her right palm along his cheek causing his attention to snap back to her. “It’s okay, Derek. I’ve been ready for death for a long time. I want to see my family again.” Stiles’ breaths were becoming shorter and shorter. The pauses between her words were growing longer. “This isn’t your fault,” Stiles made sure to say this as loudly as she could while gazing into Derek’s red rimmed eyes to drive her message home.

“I can’t let you die!” He cried as his arms tightened. He could undoubtedly hear how her heart was slowing, the silence stretching between the beats.

“Promise me something!” Stiles breathed out harshly, feeling blood trickle from the side of her mouth.

“Anything,” was the immediate response.

Stiles cast around in the left pocket of the leather jacket that she had dawned that day until her hands came upon a weathered, slightly bent rectangular shape. She pulled it out jerkily and began to move it towards Derek’s shaking form. “Watch out for my pack.”

Derek took the photograph from Stiles’ unsteady hands to gaze at the photograph which contained fourteen faces with varying degrees of smiles as they gazed at whoever was taking the photograph. Looking away from the photo, Derek saw that Stiles was gazing up at him questioningly with her heart slowing even further. “You have my word.” He promised solemnly.

Stiles grinned up at Derek, took in a deep shuddering breath and her eyes closed in a macabre imitation of peaceful slumber as her body slackened in Derek’s arms. Her right palm which had been resting on his cheek slid down and landed atop her still form leaving only the remnant of a bloody handprint. The howls of grief from the Hale Pack echoed loudly as the sirens of the oncoming police and firefighters neared their location.

* * *

 

“That’s it?” A voice cried as he slammed his hands upon the table where the chess game was stretched between him and his black suit clad opponent. “You expend all of this magic, all of this time to sacrifice your Queen--the strongest piece on the board--for a lowly pawn?” God scoffed at Death’s foolishness.

Death looked leisurely around where they were seated upon their large tree stump in the middle of the desert to admire the landscape surrounding them before he responded. The skies were dark and stormy with lightning and thunder clashing, dancing vivaciously across the vast expanse of darkness. The land was sparse, the black desert sands sweeping with the top layers changing, shifting across the landscape until new swirls appeared only to be whisked away by the tumultuous winds.

Returning his attention to his opponent, Death smiled benignly, enigmatically at God and began to rearrange the chessboard for another game.


	2. Author's Note

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a SEQUEL!

Hello everyone! I just wanted to let anyone who subscribed to this story or who asked for a sequel to know that I have indeed written and posted a sequel. For some reason it is not appearing on my homepage but the new 'series' label says that it has been posted. It is called, "The New Game". If it hasn't shown up by the time you've gotten to it, please let me know and I will attempt to remedy the situation. I hope everyone enjoys and that this finds you all well. Happy reading!


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